


if you love me (won't you say something)

by iwritetrash



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: (be gentle with me i don't write smut), (edward is too naive for you to take anything he says too seriously), A Total Lack of Communication, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Miscommunication, Unreliable Narrator, in fact, playlists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-04 09:22:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18601651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritetrash/pseuds/iwritetrash
Summary: what not to do when your fuckbuddy makes a sex playlist full of love songs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay so i was completely out of inspiration, but then i was browsing ao3 and i read [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18512056) and felt all my inspiration return, and now here we are, 9300 words later... 
> 
> i want to apologise in advance for the sheer level of idiocy displayed in this fic, like it's bad, okay, edward reaches peak dumbass here.
> 
> also, this fic revolves around a playlist, and mentions specific songs. i don't know if anyone is at all interested in actually listening to the songs as they're mentioned but you can access the whole playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/11170633048/playlist/1ikV0DfnH6B95iDlaSAAVo?si=H9n1i43WR1-9FUqfrqSYrQ). the first 24 songs are put in order of appearance in the fic - if you turn off shuffle and change the song every time a song change is mentioned in the fic or when a new scene begins you should be able to listen to each song as it comes up (including a few songs that aren't mentioned by name to fill gaps). there's also a few bonus songs at the end that i didn't get to mention in the fic but still fit the vibe quite nicely! i don't know if anyone would actually want to bother going through this whole playlist ordeal but hey, i thought i'd stick it in here anyway in case you just want to have a non-structured listen while you read!
> 
> im so sorry, i actually live my life through playlists and i don't think it's possible for me to write without them so here we are.
> 
> also, those of you who read take me back to the start, and who've read my other fics, might recognise a few of the songs...
> 
> anyway yeah, here we are! i won't ramble on any longer! 
> 
> enjoy!

“What the hell is this?” Edward drops his head back against the pillow beneath him, quirking an eyebrow up at Alfred, who’s positioned above him fiddling with his phone, which has just started playing the all too familiar chords of **Take My Breath Away** through his old, tinny speaker. “Tell me we’re not fucking to a song from _Top Gun_.” Frankly, Edward is a little disgruntled that Alfred has stopped paying attention to him in the middle of their make-out session, and right when things were really starting to heat up too. He can still feel the phantom trace of Alfred’s bruising kiss on his lips... 

Alfred huffs and puts his phone down, finally –  _finally_ – looking back over at Edward as his hands start tracing absentmindedly up and down Edward’s sides, like he’s debating whether or not he wants him to take his shirt off just yet. “It’s a cover,” he huffs, and, now that Edward thinks about it, it sounds a lot better than the original. Maybe he can let this one slide. Alfred leans in and buries his face in Edward’s neck as he speaks, so his words are slightly muffled and his lips are brushing against Edward’s skin with each word. “I made a playlist.”

Edward is glad Alfred can’t see the way his cheeks flush slightly from where his head is buried in his neck, because it saves him a world of embarrassment. “Babe, you made me a mixtape?” he teases, like he can hide the way his heart is fluttering in his chest. Things between them are strictly casual, and it would be ridiculous for Edward to catch feelings for his best friend-turned-roommate-turned-fuckbuddy, which is why it’s a good thing he hasn’t, right?

Alfred grunts into his neck, fingers tugging at the hem of Edward’s shirt as he leans back, having apparently decided he wants Edward’s shirt off after all. “It’s a _playlist_. For _sex_ ,” he adds, for clarity, Edward assumes. Just in case anyone got the wrong end of the stick about what the two of them were doing here, which Edward definitely hasn’t. Obviously.

Edward rolls his eyes, even as Alfred sticks his tongue out at him, because he thinks that might be one of the dorkiest things he’s ever heard come out of Alfred’s mouth, and that’s saying something. A _sex playlist_. It’s kind of cute, really, though he supposes that’s not quite the goal Alfred had in mind.

“Still, you made it for _me_.” Edward grins up at Alfred, trailing his hands up his already bare chest. 

“I made it for _fucking_.” Alfred rolls their hips together as if to punctuate his point, burying his face back into Edward’s neck and licking and nipping at the soft skin there in a way that has Edward rocking his hips up to meet his with a whine. 

“And who else are you sleeping with?” Edward pants slightly as he scrapes his hands up Alfred’s back, nails digging into his flesh just slightly. He might feel bad if he didn’t know how much Alfred loved it when he left marks, on his back, his neck, his hips… There’s something possessive in it, like claiming ownership, which is weird, when Edward thinks about it, considering they’re not actually dating. But he’s always just thought it was one of Alfred’s quirks, and he honestly can’t say he’s all that opposed to the idea anyway. 

Alfred doesn’t reply, but he does bite down a little harder than usual on Edward’s neck, like he’s trying to give him a cue to stop talking and put his mouth to better use elsewhere. Or maybe he was just taking his turn to mark Edward instead. Edward lets his mind wander for a second to what it might be like if he and Alfred actually were dating, if he’s this possessive over his _fuckbuddy_. 

Edward has to mentally shake himself to clear away those thoughts, because the fact of the matter is they’re _not_ dating, and entertaining even the slightest notion that things could be different is exactly how someone ends up catching feelings. Which Edward hasn’t. Yet.

“I mean, you basically named it after me,” Edward goads as his hands start to work over Alfred’s belt, returning again to the ridiculous playlist, which has thankfully moved on from the song from Top Gun to something he doesn’t recognise with a pulsing beat layered over smooth chords. 

“Did not,” Alfred huffs, kicking off his trousers, and helping Edward when he lifts his hips to do the same. 

Edward pouts up at him, his hands settling on Alfred’s hips as his fingers splay out across his ass, giving him his very best puppy dog expression. “Does this mean there’s another pretty boy in your life?” 

Alfred rolls his eyes, ducking his head down to kiss Edward, trailing his lips across his cheek until he’s level with Edward’s ear. “Why? Are you jealous, _pretty boy_?” he murmurs, rolling his hips down against Edward’s, and Edward shivers, like, _full-body shivers_ as Alfred’s breath washes over his ear. He tries not to think about the way Alfred’s words ring true, how he actually would be jealous if he didn’t _know_ that this arrangement was exclusive. Just so they can forgo a condom without worrying about STDs. Obviously.

“I knew you made it for me.” He doesn’t know why he’s pushing this, especially when he can see it’s making Alfred sort of tense. It’s not like he needs the affirmation. If Alfred has made a sex playlist, then it’s a playlist for sex with _him_. Because neither of them are seeing anyone else, so of course it’s for him. He shouldn’t really need any more than that, and yet he finds himself craving it, wants to hear Alfred tell him, validate the surge of desire coursing through him at the mere thought of it.

“Quit being a little shit,” Alfred warns, his voice vibrating against Edward’s neck as he continues his ministrations on the skin there, wriggling his fingers into Edward’s sides in a way that makes him squirm and bite back giggle. “Unless you’ve decided you don’t want to get laid after all…” Alfred trails off, moving as if to climb off of Edward and walk back to his own room, like he actually spends the night there anymore. 

Edward clamps his arms tightly around Alfred’s waist before he can move too much, pulling him back until the full weight of Alfred’s body is thumping against his own, forcing the air out of his lungs in a gasp, which quickly gives way to a giggle, and before he knows what’s happening Alfred is chuckling along with him, their bodies pressed against each other, one of Alfred’s legs hitched up over Edward’s hip while the other is resting between Edward’s, and Alfred is reaching down to twine their hands together. All of a sudden, the moment feels a little too intimate, a little too romantic for Edward’s tastes, as their eyes lock and their laughter fades back to silence. He can already feel those all too dangerous thoughts beginning to surface as he feels the weight of Alfred’s body against his in an almost entirely non-sexual way.

“What’s this song, then?” Edward asks, rocking their hips together again and leaning up to mouth at Alfred’s jawline where a muscle ticks almost unnoticeably, trying to shift away from the inarguably romantic atmosphere that has settled over the room back to territory he can handle. He can handle sex, he can handle music, he can push past this.

“Y’know, it’s right there, you could look for yourself.” Alfred gestures vaguely to his phone with one had but leans into Edward’s lips in spite of himself. 

Edward leans back and pouts up at him and, like clockwork, Alfred rolls his eyes, caving without him even needing to speak, and maybe Edward is using the fact that Alfred is a sucker for that pout and his big brown eyes to his advantage, but it gets the job done, doesn’t it?

“ **Another Lover**. Leland.” Alfred shakes his head at Edward, lips curving up into a soft smile as he strokes a thumb over Edward’s still pouty lips. There’s something soft in his eyes, something that could be mistaken for love by the untrained eye.   

Edward can feel his cheeks flushing as the moment shifts a little too close to romantic yet again, and his breath is catching in his throat, and surely Alfred can feel the way his heart is racing as Alfred starts to rock their hips together, building up a slow rhythm, and maybe he can blame it on that and not the fact that Alfred’s eyes haven’t looked away from his since he spoke?

“What’s it about?” Edward swears he sees Alfred’s eyes flash, his expression morphing into panic for a split second before he forces his face back into a casual, nonchalant expression.

“Maybe if you weren’t talking over it, you’d know,” Alfred murmurs, before ducking his head down and sealing his lips firmly over Edward’s, kissing him hard, and it feels like Edward can breathe normally again without Alfred’s eyes staring into his with that soft look that makes it feel like there’s a metal band wrapped around his ribcage. 

When Alfred’s teeth graze over his lip, Edward feels it rush through his veins like a strange mix of desire and relief. The somewhat tender moment that had existed between them has finally dissipated, and now they can get back to fucking, and Edward can lock his possibly-present-after-all feelings back up in a box and forget about them for a little while longer. 

He drags his mind back to the feeling of Alfred’s lips pressing against his, and the way their hips are rocking together in time with the music drifting out of Alfred’s crappy speaker.

 _I don’t want another lover but you_ , the singer croons, and Edward presses his eyes closed and focuses on the way Alfred’s teeth are pulling somewhat insistently at his lip as his fingers begin to roam south.

 

* * *

 

“Alfred?” 

“Hmmm.”

“Why does this song make me feel like I’m at a Hawaiian beach resort?”

“Are you seriously disrespecting Janelle Monáe in my bed?”

“I’m not disrespecting her, but you’ve gotta admit-“

“Quit talking shit about **I Like That** before I leave you to take care of yourself.”

“Okay, but-“

“Edward? Can we have sex in peace?”

“…Okay, yeah.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, I actually know this one.” Edward practically beams at Alfred as he passes him the plate he’s just washed up, humming quietly to the tune. 

Alfred flicks his tea towel at him before setting about drying the plate. “ **One Kiss**? Yeah, everyone knows this song,” he teases, but there’s no malice in the smile on his face.

Edward huffs a little to play with whatever game Alfred wants to play. “Just because I don’t know all your weird obscure shit…” he trails off, not really sure where he was even heading with that. 

Alfred shakes his head at him and chuckles quietly as he puts the plate away, before walking over the his phone and skipping the song with a cheeky grin, moving on to something obscure again. Edward grumbles quietly under his breath but doesn’t say anything, handing Alfred the next plate without a word, even as Alfred smiles childishly at him.

Edward isn’t really sure why they’re listening to the sex playlist Alfred made them while they wash up the dishes, especially at 8am when they both have to be out the door and on their way to work in half an hour. Maybe Alfred is trying to tempt him into a quickie before they both go out for the day, or maybe he’s just a hopeless tease, or _maybe_ he just likes the songs on it. Who’s to know? Edward isn’t exactly privy to all the peculiar inner workings of Alfred’s brain. Maybe if he was he might be able to make sense of the way Alfred looks at him from time to time, like there’s something hidden behind his ever-composed expression. 

Edward finishes washing up the frying pan he’d used to cook Alfred pancakes this morning, after he batted his eyelashes at him and said ‘pretty please’, and hands it to Alfred, drying his hands quickly on the bottom of his tea towel and wandering over to where Alfred’s phone is sat on the countertop as nonchalantly as possible, unlocking it quickly without picking it up. 

He starts to scroll through the playlist, just to check if there’s any other songs he might actually know on there, and stumbles across **The Sound**. He’s not the biggest fan of that song, but it does send him reeling back to making out with Alfred in a dark corner of Florence and Mina’s wedding reception, the night they first hooked up, when this whole arrangement between them started, back when they were just two best friends feeling lonely at a wedding. 

The corners of his lips twitch up into a smile at the memory the song carries, and the fact that Alfred thought to include it, but before he can scroll any further the phone is being plucked out of his hand and Alfred is frowning slightly at him.

“You’d better not have messed with my playlist,” he grumbles.

Edward holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Even if it is _my_ playlist.” Edward quirks his eyebrows at Alfred, who rolls his eyes by way of response, pressing play on the next song and tucking his phone safely into his pocket. 

He doesn’t make any further effort to respond, simply hums and wanders toward Edward, walking him backwards until he’s pressed between the counter and Alfred’s body. Alfred is looking up at him with his very best _fuck me_ eyes, and Edward is pretty sure he can feel all the blood in his body rushing away from his brain and straight down to his dick.

Alfred mouths along Edward’s jaw, standing up on his toes until he’s practically breathing into Edward’s ear, his hands slipping into Edward’s back pockets. “Want me to blow you before work?” He murmurs, teeth catching just slightly, and Edward’s breath hitches. 

So it looks like Alfred was just looking for a morning fuck. Not that Edward is opposed to that. But maybe he liked the idea that maybe Alfred just wanted to listen to their playlist. Except that that sounds an awful lot like something someone who’d caught feelings would say.

“We’ll have to shower again,” Edward says, even as he settles his hands on Alfred’s hips to tug him closer. He can’t say no to those eyes.

“Or I could blow you in the shower.”

Edward cocks an eyebrow. Realistically, he should pass. Time is ticking by and at this rate he’s going to show up at work with wet hair and three fresh hickeys. His boss took a pretty dim view last time he did that. Something about professionalism in the workplace. Edward tried sporting a turtleneck to cover the hickeys, but that didn’t go over well either. Peel is a traditional suit and tie sort of man, and really Edward quite appreciates staying in his good books.

He’s about to protest, but then Alfred is taking him by the hand and leading him in the direction of the bathroom, and the speaker has switched over to something sultry he, of course, doesn’t recognise (Alfred tells him later that it’s called **Love Galore** ), and he can’t really find it in him to say no.

Edward shows up to work five minutes late, and sneaks straight to the bathroom with Florence’s concealer to try and make himself decent.

 

* * *

 

“Taylor Swift?” 

“Shut up.”

“I’m not having sex listening to Taylor Swift.”

“Literally, go fuck yourself, **Don’t Blame Me** is perfect-”

“Hey, wait, don’t _leave_ , I just-“ 

“Don’t you dare-“

“-who puts Taylor Swift on a sex playlist?”

“Okay, enjoy fucking your hand tonight.”

“Alfred!”

 

* * *

 

Edward’s been trying to put his finger on what’s been bugging him about Alfred’s playlist. There’s been something sitting in the back of his head, like an itch he can’t quite scratch, and he’s finally sussed out what it is.

They’re all love songs.

It’s not that Edward is drastically opposed to Alfred having a crush, but he’s not too fond of the implication that Alfred might be crushing on someone else and using Edward as a sort of venting tool, like maybe he’s sleeping with Edward and thinking of someone else. He’s also not a fan of the idea that maybe the playlist isn’t for him after all.

But look, it’s fine if Alfred is into someone else. Really, it is, because this thing is just casual, and so what if Alfred is thinking of someone else while they screw, right? Because this was always something they could end anytime, if the right person came along. 

Edward will take what he can get where Alfred is concerned, and if that means fucking him while he tries not to say someone else’s name then that’s just fine. He wonders if maybe he tells himself that often enough he might start to actually believe it.

“Are you using this playlist to break up with me or something?” Edward teases, or at least he tries. Partly because they’re not even dating, so what is there to break up anyway? But he also wants answers from Alfred, because they used to _talk_ about this stuff but lately Edward’s been feeling pretty in the dark, like maybe this whole sex thing has gotten in the way of the friendship that came before it or something.

Alfred hums absent-mindedly, before glancing over at Edward, who’s sat at the table trying to balance their monthly budget, from where he’s standing at the stove making dinner. It’s almost painfully domestic. “What do you mean?”

He looks like he’s not quite paying attention, humming along to the music and stirring a pot of pasta sauce. Alfred makes the most amazing pasta sauce Edward has ever tasted, like he somehow manages to strike a perfect balance of flavours. Edward has tried following his recipe to the letter and it still never comes out quite right. Maybe it just requires Alfred’s magic touch.

Edward clears his throat. “I mean, this playlist, they’re all love songs, right? I mean, this one is literally called **i love you** , and I’m assuming you’re thinking about someone when you play it. So… Who’s the lucky guy?” The words stick uncomfortably in Edward’s throat, and he can practically feel Alfred tensing up the way he always does when Edward pries about this damn playlist, so he swallows the lump in his throat and looks back down at the spreadsheet he’s been staring at blankly for the last half an hour since his epiphany, trying to work up the courage to ask.

“I thought you thought this playlist was about you, huh, pretty boy?” Alfred teases, but there’s a distinct tension in the way he’s holding himself, hunched slightly, not quite daring to look over at Edward as they both act like this conversation is entirely casual.

“Come on, I mean this is clearly more than just a sex playlist,” Edward says, risking a nonchalant glance over at Alfred, and deciding the coast is clear for him to actually _look_ at him. “You know, you can tell me if there’s a guy.”

Alfred takes a deep breath, still with his back turned to Edward, and squares his shoulders, before setting the spoon down, turning, and striding over so he’s right up in Edward’s space. 

“Yeah, there’s a guy.” Edward feels his heart sink right down into his stomach at Alfred’s words. “A stupid, dumbass, really fucking _pretty_ guy.”

His eyes are fixed on Edward’s, practically forcing him to make eye contact as he stares him down. He steps between Edward’s legs, which open instinctively for him, and toys with Edward’s tie, loosening it and slipping it over his head as he eyes him with a weirdly intense expression, like he’s waiting for something.

Edward realises, then, that he hasn’t replied.

“Lucky him,” he says, lamely, more than a little transfixed by Alfred’s hands unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time.

He figures Alfred is just looking for another pity fuck, especially now that he’s forced Alfred to air his dirty laundry out in the open like this, and he almost thinks twice about obliging this time, knowing what he knows, but then Alfred’s crushing their lips together in a bruising kiss and he sort of just forgets what they were talking about, even as the haunting notes of **i love you** wash over them.

 

* * *

 

“ **Pussy is God**?”

“Don’t fucking start-“ 

“What, did you turn straight overnight?”

“Okay look-“

“Hey, no, don’t skip it, I actually liked that one." 

“Too late.”

“Are you kidding me?”

 

* * *

 

“Since when do you listen to Hozier?” Mina frowns at Alfred, who’s over at the stove cooking whatever the hell dinner is tonight.

Mina is on some weird cleanse and is avoiding basically everything that doesn’t come in the form of something green and blended, but Alfred is making it work for their weekly wine nights, while Edward gives her some advice on how her and Flo can cut their spending in the meantime. He can tell she’s not particularly interested, regardless of whether or not she appreciates the advice, possibly on account of the fact that she’s halfway through her second glass of wine already, but she was the one who asked him, and he’s running low on conversation topics with her aside from the obvious ‘hey, I’m fucking your best friend’. 

“Since his horny forest music started fitting my aesthetic,” Alfred grins over his shoulder at Mina, who narrows her eyes at him slightly, and turning up the song.

“Which one is this one?” Edward asks, as Alfred starts to swing his hips in time with the music in a way that can’t be good for Edward’s sanity. 

“ **Movement** ,” Alfred calls over his shoulder, and Edward feels a slight blush rise in his cheeks as he realises that he recognises this song from when he fucked Alfred over the very same table he’s currently sat at some two weeks ago. Alfred turns his head to wink at him, smirking as he turns back to his food, and Edward face starts to feel like a furnace. 

Mina’s eyes flicker suspiciously between the two of them. As soon as Alfred’s back is turned, she stretches as far as she can reach and snatches his phone off the counter, opening his Spotify and starting to scroll through the playlist. Edward feels like maybe he should stop her, but he’s sort of curious too, especially since Alfred locked him out of their supposedly shared Spotify account and made the playlist private after Edward played Mr Brightside on repeat for an entire day. 

“‘pretty boy’? This is definitely not one of your public playlists, Jesus, Alfred,” Mina scrolls through.

Alfred looks vaguely disgruntled, but he doesn’t protest. Edward feels almost offended that Mina has more scrolling rights than him where this playlist is concerned, even though it’s a playlist for when _he_ has sex. But not for him, Edward reminds himself.

“What the hell _is_ this playlist, and why didn’t I know about it?” Mina scrolls through, changing the song over to **Best Part** and cocking an eyebrow.

Alfred rolls his lip between his teeth, like he’s reluctant to answer, which is weird because he tells Mina everything. Then again, he usually tells Edward everything too. 

“Okay, fine, you don’t wanna tell me?” she huffs, turning her attention on Edward, and raising her eyebrows expectantly. 

Edward shrugs. “It’s for some boy he has a crush on,” he says without really thinking it through, getting up and wandering over to the sink to grab a glass of water. 

“Huh?” Mina looks so genuinely confused that Edward doesn’t really know what to say. It’s not like he knows much more himself anyway.

Her eyes flicker between Edward and Alfred, like she’s trying to solve some kind of enigma that Edward can’t even see.

“Can we forget about my stupid playlist?”

“No, seriously, what?” Mina says, ignoring Alfred, who huffs and starts stirring what Edward _thinks_ is risotto with newfound vigour. 

“He made it because he’s like in love with this dumb pretty boy or something,” Edward says, shrugging as if to tell her that that’s all the info he has. Obviously he’s omitting certain details, but he’s not too keen on spilling all the details of his sex life to her.

Mina looks more confused than ever, and Alfred looks a lot like he’d like to crawl into a hole and die, shooting Edward a withering look.

“Alfred.”

“Yes, dear?” Alfred answers Mina with a weary attempt at a smile. 

“Care to explain?”

“Not particularly.”

“Okay but-“

“Can we talk about literally anything else?” Alfred interrupts, but Mina continues in spite of him.

“- _are_ you in _love_ with some dumb pretty boy?”

Edward’s not really sure he wants to hear the answer to this question, not yet anyway. Because, you see, it’s possible Edward might have caught just a few feelings amid all this mess.

“God, what are you guys even talking about?” Alfred feigns ignorance, as though he’s been nothing more than an idle participant in the conversation thus far.

Edward kind of wishes he’d kept his damn mouth shut, because right now he feels like he’s about to throw up all over the kitchen floor, because Alfred is refusing to answer the fucking question, and now he thinks maybe he might throw up regardless of whether Alfred answers or not.

“We’re talking about how you’re in love with some dumb pretty boy,” Mina says with a shit eating grin, and Alfred gives her a withering look like he’s about to throw her out of the flat.

“Don’t call Edward dumb, he’s giving you free advice, and _good_ free advice too.” Alfred turns back to his saucepan like he can ignore the both of them, as if he hasn’t just made everything worse. 

Mina grins like she’s just won an argument or something, and Edward really can’t see what she’s so happy about, but she’s giving him a look like he’s supposed to be ecstatic as well, when really it just feels like his heart is being dragged out of his ass.

“What, so Edward is the only pretty boy you know?”

“You honestly think I’ve got time in my life for two?”

Mina’s waggling her eyebrows at Edward now, and he _really_ doesn’t get what she’s trying to get at, but Alfred’s words have given him a slight rush that makes him feel less like his knees are about to give way and more like he wants to drag him straight to the bedroom. 

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head,” Edward croons leaning in close and pressing a sloppy kiss onto Alfred’s cheek, slapping his ass gently and ignoring the way Mina rolls her eyes at his antics.

“For the record,” Alfred says, as he starts to dish up what Edward has now decided is _definitely_ risotto, “it’s on private because my _mum_ follows my Spotify, and she does _not_ need to see my sex playlist.”

Mina drops the phone onto the table like she’s just been burned by it, staring at Alfred like she’s permanently traumatised by what he’s just said.

“Why the _fuck_ are we listening to your _sex playlist_ over _dinner_?” she shrieks.

“Maybe I’m just hoping to get lucky.” Alfred gives Edward a positively filthy look that tells him wine night won’t be lasting long, and Edward best be ready when it ends, before sauntering over to the table, bowls in hand, where Mina is miming gagging at the two of them.

 

* * *

 

“ **I Like Me Better**? Wasn’t this in that movie-“ 

“Edward I swear to god-“ 

“I didn’t realise you liked that film?”

“Can you _stop_ interrupting sex with inane commentary about my playlist?”

“I’m just curious-“

“I’m this close to deleting the whole thing, now do you want a blowjob or not?”

“…okay, I’ll stop.”

 

* * *

 

Edward is already sprawled across the sofa, book in one hand, glass of wine in the other, when Alfred comes home, stomping through the door and slamming it behind him as he throws his keys onto the counter. Edward is already closing his book and putting it down when Alfred storms into the living room, coming to a halt about a meter away from the sofa and standing stock still, fuming quietly.

“Bad day at work?” Edward says, standing up and walking over to Alfred. He knows Alfred can get hypersensitive when he’s like this, and sometimes a hug just makes it worse, so he stops just short of Alfred and stands with his arms open tentatively, letting him make the first move.

Alfred sinks straight into Edward’s arms, practically collapsing against him, his entire body sagging against Edward’s. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he murmurs into Edward’s shoulder.

Edward manoeuvres him over to the sofa, without letting go of him, because it looks like Alfred has swung in the complete opposite direction to what Edward had predicted, towards clinginess, and now seems adamant upon curling up into Edward’s body to get as close to him as physically possible. 

“Want to talk about it?” Edward asks as he drapes the fluffiest blanket they own around Alfred’s shoulders, and tucks a cushion under his back so he’s comfortable.

“No.” Alfred’s sniffs, burying his nose even deeper into Edward’s shoulder, if that’s even possible at this point.

“Do you want something to eat?” Edward strokes a hand through Alfred’s hair, while his other hand traces patterns into Alfred’s back, which makes him sigh contentedly against Edward’s neck. 

“No. I just wanna stay here forever.”

“Right here?” Edward asks as Alfred wriggles just a little until he’s curled up on his lap, arms looping around Edward’s neck as his breathing starts to level out.

“Right here.”

Edward smiles slightly, relishing in the familiar weight of Alfred’s body on his and burying his nose into Alfred’s hair.

He moves one of his hands to pick up his phone, and has to bite back a laugh at Alfred’s whine of protest. He puts his phone down the moment soft music starts filtering through the crappy phone speakers and returns to stroking his hand up Alfred’s back, scratching just slightly the way Alfred likes it. He all but starts _purring_ into his neck.

“Is this my playlist?” Alfred says after a few beats.

Edward hums, glancing at his phone to see what unfamiliar song is playing this time. **fallingforyou**. It’s almost uncomfortably fitting.

“How’d you get to it?”  
  
“You changed the Spotify password to _my name_.” 

Alfred makes some kind of disgruntled noise into Edward’s neck, but his body is so relaxed against his that Edward can tell he isn’t too bothered by it. It is _their_ playlist, after all. Well. Sort of.

“You trying to get laid?” 

Edward hums as he traces his name onto Alfred’s back. “Not particularly. Just know you like playing our sex playlist 24/7.” 

Alfred snorts, and Edward feels the sound vibrate against his neck. They’re toeing a line here, teetering on a boundary between friendly intimacy and something more, and Edward’s not all that averse to crossing it. It’s moments like these that make him want to cradle Alfred in his arms and whisper sweet nothings to him as he drifts off to sleep. It’s moments like these that make his mind wander to what things might be like if they were more than just fuckbuddies.

Alfred’s lips brush against his neck as he hums along to the song, which is only adding to the intimacy of the moment, and Edward is kind of starting to regret putting the music on, or at the very least not checking what song he’d played before he started it. He could have made a wiser choice and picked a song that was a little less painfully accurate. 

 _I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your neck_.

Not that it would’ve done much good, given that every single song in Alfred’s fucking playlist is a love song. 

Edward can’t help but wonder if Alfred is thinking about this other guy right now, while he’s wrapped up in Edward’s arms. He shouldn’t have put on this stupid _fucking_ playlist.

Edward presses a kiss onto the top of Alfred’s forehead as his humming gives way to slow, even breaths, and wonders why his stupid brain won’t even let him savour moments like these.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, so about this boy-“ 

“Jesus, are we still playing this game?”

“-no, just hear me out. Don’t you think **goodnight n go** is giving off the wrong kinda vibes?” 

“God, can’t you just suck my dick without overanalysing everything?”

“I mean you want to date this guy, don’t you?”

“Dude seriously? Are you gonna do this every time?”

“Only for you, babe.”

 

* * *

 

Alfred’s fucking him slow and steady, snapping his hips so hard that Edward’s eyes are rolling back into his skull as his hands claw down the length of Alfred’s back, mouthing down the column of his neck and whispering filthy things into his ear as their hips roll together. Alfred is keeping the pace slow, drawing out this moment and packing it with sensuality, and every time their eyes meet Edward feels like he’s about to burst. 

In fact, he thinks the only reason he’s not become overwhelmed to the point of tears yet is the fact that the song Alfred’s put on is, thankfully, not too directly relatable, unlike some of the songs on this godforsaken playlist.

It’s a love hate relationship.

He glances over quickly to where Alfred’s phone is propped up on the bedside table and makes a note of the title: **Shattered Ring**. It might just be the only song in Alfred’s entire playlist that doesn’t make him want to rip his own heart out.

And then Alfred is leaning in to capture his lips, and something about the way his tongue traces at the seam of his lips makes him think for a second that this is more than just a quick fuck, that this is more than just two friends getting off. As if on cue, the song he’d deemed as a safe call comes to an end, giving way something slow, romantic. Something unrequited that strikes him deep in his gut as the music begins to build.

“I like this one,” Edward breathes against Alfred’s lips, even as the melody makes his heart hang heavy in his chest. “Suits us.”

Alfred’s hips stutter in their rhythm above him as he props himself up a little higher to look down at Edward properly, hair mussed up and flopping over his forehead. “Yeah?”

There’s something off in the way Alfred is watching him, like he hadn’t expected Edward to feel that way.  Edward has to avert his eyes to avoid the eye contact Alfred is maintaining, glancing over instead at the phone again to see what song it is that’s ripping his heartstrings right out: **Is There Somewhere**. Edward looks back and finds Alfred still watching him with that weird look on his face, and wonders if maybe he’s said something wrong, if Alfred is going to up and leave again.

Edward hums and digs his heels into Alfred’s back to urge him into motion. “Yeah. Maybe we should start having secret trysts in hotel rooms, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, maybe.” 

It’s then that the penny drops for Edward that this playlist isn’t _really_ for him, that Alfred has someone else on his mind when he listens to this song, and that every moment Edward spends pretending that’s not the case is another stitch needed to mend his heart when this eventually all goes up in smoke. 

_All I do is cry and complain, because seconds not the same._

“Is this your way of telling me I’m your second choice?” Alfred asks, and there’s something off in his voice now, like the words are physically paining him, and Edward wants nothing more than to kiss away the pain.

“You could never be my second choice,” Edward says, without even thinking, and it skims just a little too close to the truth for comfort. It’s just a little bit too honest. His brain screams out at him to take it back, but before he can say anything he sees a much gentler look come over Alfred’s face, smiling down at him all soft and dopey like Edward just handed him the moon tied up with a bow, and the words dry up in his mouth. 

 _I’m sorry but I fell in love tonight_. 

The lyrics loop through Edward’s brain like a taunt he can’t shake.

He lets himself pretend, just for a moment, just for now, for this one fuck, relishing in that soft look on Alfred’s face as he ducks his head down to kiss him, slow and sweet, and then he’ll slip back into a reality where they’re not really a couple when it’s over.

A few stray tears find their way down his cheeks, but he hides them with a kiss.

 

* * *

 

“Is your boy dating someone else or something?” 

“I’m leaving.”

“No, no, wait, stop!” 

“Are you gonna drop this?” 

“Scout’s honour.”

“Okay, good.”

“But-“ 

“Are you kidding me?”

“-you do have an awful lot of songs on here about it. I mean, **break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored**? Wha- Hey, come back to bed, Alfred.” 

“Bye!”

 

* * *

 

Edward flops onto the sofa with a huff, instinctively hitting shuffle on Alfred’s playlist, because he’s gotten used to the flat being filled with Alfred’s music, resisting the urge to scream when a song titled **just friends** starts playing. It’s like Alfred made this playlist with the goal of driving him insane. 

“You doing alright?” Florence sits down beside him, passing him a glass of wine as he tucks his feet up into her lap.

It’s one of the rare evenings when Alfred is out of the flat without him, so he’d invited Florence over to drink the cheapest wine they can get from the shop and bitch about their problems. And he’s got one problem in particular that he thinks he needs to air out before it drives him insane. 

“I think I’m in love with Alfred.”

Florence snorts. “So nothing’s changed there,” she says, taking a sip of wine. 

“You knew?” Edward scrambles quickly to sit upright.

“You’re not exactly the king of subtlety, babe.”

“Do you think _he_ knows?”

Florence shrugs. “Probably.”

Edward smacks his hand over his face, just barely avoiding spilling wine all over the sofa. Alfred would’ve killed him if he had, especially after he dropped a huge scoop of chocolate ice cream onto the carpet last week. He wants nothing more than to disappear into the sofa and never have to face his fuckbuddy/roommate/best friend ever again, only this time it has nothing to do with a mysterious new stain. 

“Jeez, can you chill out?” Florence pries his hands off her face with her free hand. “Quit the dramatics, this is not an end of the world scenario.” 

“What do I _do_?” Edward whines, prodding at her leg with his foot. He’s fairly sure he looks pathetic right now, but he feels pretty pathetic so he’s not too worried about it. 

Florence rolls her eyes at him, taking a sip of her wine. “Just tell him.”

“Tell him?” Edward stares blankly at her. The thought had, in fact, occurred to him before, surprisingly enough, but he’d always second guessed himself. He wasn’t really expecting Florence to be so nonchalant about him professing his love to one of his closest friends. 

She shrugs. “May as well.”

Edward blinks at her, before taking a large gulp of wine. “You really think that’s a good idea?” he says, setting his glass on the coffee table, having almost drained it of its contents. “I mean, you don’t think it’d weird him out.” 

Florence gives him this odd look that he can’t quite make sense of, like the answer is so obvious. “I mean, it’s early days, but what you guys have is special, you know?”

Edward tips his head back to stare up at the ceiling. Florence’s words don’t quite make sense to him, but maybe that’s because they’ve already gotten through almost two bottles of wine between them so far this evening. Still her advice seems sound. Maybe she’s right, and he just needs to grow a pair and fess up.

For all he knows, Alfred might feel the same way.

 

* * *

 

“Orpheus and Eurydice?”

“Oh my god shut up.”

“Which of us is Eurydice?”

“Look, **Talk** is a perfectly decent song and-“ 

“Would you go down to the underworld to rescue my soul?”

“Not right now I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, Alfred, I’m _swooning_.”

 

* * *

 

Edward is pretty surprised to find out that there are other people in his building who are close to his age. Most of the neighbours he’s met before are pensioners, including Mina’s aunt, who (thankfully) lives on the floor above them, so they don’t have to run the risk of receiving noise complaints from her. He also met one tired-looking nurse when he was collecting his mail one time who seems pretty nice and possibly also lives on his floor? He’s not all that sure – he hasn’t actually met his neighbours.

But anyway. It’s safe to say Edward had all but assumed that he and Alfred were the only people in this building under the age of 45, which is why he’s relatively surprised to spot a guy around his age wobbling towards the stairs with at least six full shopping bags as Edward gets in from work. He sees the man stumble slightly and hurries over to catch one of the bags before it drops.

“Hey, let me help you with that,” he says, offering a hand for the man to pass him a few of the bags.

“Oh, no, I’m fine, honestly,” the man replies, offering Edward an easy smile.

“Please, I insist.”

The man gives Edward a quick once over, presumable to determine how likely he is to run off with the bags of food, before passing Edward a couple of shopping bags.

“I’m Alex,” he says, holding out a hand somewhat awkwardly as he juggles carrier bags.

“Edward,” he replies, shaking Alex’s hand with a smile, before heading over to the stairs. “D’you live here? I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Oh, nah, my mum lives here. She’s a nurse, so she’s pretty busy, so I try and give her a hand when I can.” He gestures to the shopping bags with a small smile, and Edward can’t help but smile back. “I’m guessing you do live here then?”

“Ah, yeah, me and my roommate.” 

“Roommate, huh?” Alex comes to a stop just one flat down from Edward’s, offering him that same easy smile. “This is me,” he nods at the door, setting down his bags and rummaging in his  pocket for a key. “Maybe we could hang out sometime, though? Get a couple of drinks or…?”

“Yeah, I mean, it looks like your mum and I are neighbours,” Edward gestures down the hall to where his flat is.

Alex wrinkles his nose. “Tell me you and your ‘roommate’ aren’t the noisy couple she complains about all the time.”

Edward flushes a brilliant shade of scarlet. “We, uh, we aren’t uh, together. Well, uh, not _together_ -together, you know? Like, we’re not a couple.” He doesn’t really know why he’s correcting Alex on that one, but it sounds like a dead giveaway. 

Alex chuckles, at the same time as Edward hears a door a little way down the hall open. “Sounds complicated. But maybe you could give me a call sometime? You know, if and your, uh, roommate ever sort things out.”

It’s then that Edward realises that Alex wasn’t talking about just hanging out, he was talking about _hanging out_ , like a date sort of scenario, or maybe just a hook-up scenario. Regardless, it’s not quite what he’s expecting from this impromptu meeting. 

Before he can even respond with a polite rejection, he hears a sharp cough from down the hall, where Alfred has poked his head out of the door, and is now staring at the two of them, with a more than slightly disgruntled expression on his face. In fact, he looks downright murderous.

“Hey, Edward, can you come give me a hand with the laundry? It’s your turn to do the ironing.” Alfred’s voice is almost as sharp as his stare, and Edward can practically see him shooting daggers at Alex, though he can’t quite fathom what either of them have done to warrant such a reaction.

Not keen to piss Alfred off any more than he apparently already has, he turns to Alex with a sheepish smile. “Can we, uh, take a raincheck?” he says, passing Alex his shopping bags.

Alex doesn’t bother reminding him that he never actually gave Edward his number. He glances quickly over at Alfred, before patting Edward quickly on the shoulder. “Sure, man. Uh, good luck,” he says, before disappearing into his mum’s apartment. 

Alfred doesn’t wait for Edward to come to the door, storming back into the flat and letting the door swing shut behind him. Edward hurries over, in case Alfred decides he wants to put the chain on the door or something crazy like that. Edward honestly wouldn’t put it past him, judging by the look on his face.

“What. The fuck. Was _that._ ” Alfred starts speaking before the door is even fully closed behind Edward, stood with his back to him.

“What, Alex?” 

“Did you get a number to go with that name?” Alfred half snarls, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one up. They’re not supposed to smoke indoors, and Edward’s been on him to quit, but he doesn’t really feel like this is the right time to remind him

“I was just giving him a hand with his shopping, Alfred.” Edward frowns. Alfred can be a possessive ass sometimes but this is something else. When they’d started sleeping together they’d both agreed not to fuck other people, but they’d also agreed that if they met someone else they could break things off and just go back to friends anytime, even if that was over a year ago now.

Alfred whips around, scoffing as he takes in Edward’s confusion. “ _Please_ , he was basically _begging_ you to fuck him.” He takes a drag on his cigarette, and Edward really wishes he didn’t look so sexy like that, because it’s really distracting him from the more important issue at hand. “Are you gonna do it?” 

“Jesus, Alfred, what is _up_ with you?” Edward snaps. He’s pretty tired of Alfred bitchy mood.

“What’s _up_ with me?” Alfred looks beyond pissed off, hands clenching into fists at his side as he puts out his cigarette on the ashtray on the table, face turning an almost alarming shade of red. “What, so I’m not allowed to be pissed that my _boyfriend_ was busy _flirting_ with _someone else_?”

Each of Alfred’s words lands like a punch straight to Edward’s solar plexus, but one in particular sticks. “Boyfriend?”

Alfred runs a hand through his hair and looks away. “What, are you gonna try and get out of this on a technicality just because we haven’t said it yet?” A lot of the venom has dissipated from his voice, undercutting his attempt at a stern tone.

Edward is pretty sure his entire brain is short-circuiting now as he rifles back through his memory trying to work out if there’s something he’s missed. “What the hell do you mean? We’re not… that’s not what this is. You’re only fucking me so you can pretend I’m that dumb pretty boy you’ve been lusting after for _months_. And what if I _did_ want to hook up with someone else?”

Edward doesn’t know why he’s saying that, because of _course_ he doesn’t want to sleep with anyone else, but the words are already out there, and now he can’t stop himself, they just keep on coming and coming and coming.

“I mean, it would be nice to actually fuck someone who’s into _me_ for a change, who isn’t using me to get over _someone else_. I mean, you don’t even _like_ me like that. D’you ever figure that I’m sick of being your little walking talking sex doll? I mean you can’t get mad that I-“

“I _can_ get mad, because we’ve been _dating_ for _months_ , Edward.” Alfred runs a hand through his hair and turns away as Edward gapes at him because he _must_ have missed something here. “ _You_ are the dumb pretty boy, I thought you _got that_.”

Edward’s mouth dries up completely, and even if he could speak he doesn’t know what he’d say, but everything is starting to slowly click into place in his brain as Alfred pulls out his phone and hits shuffle on what Edward can only assume is their playlist before tossing it on to the sofa.

As the slow, haunting notes of **Love of My Life** start to echo around their apartment, like an added punch to the gut, Edward stumbles over to the sofa and sinks down into it, burying his head in his hands as he tries to process all of this. He wants to slap himself in the face for being so _fucking dumb_. Because this was never just a sex playlist. He said it himself, it was a playlist full of love songs, and he said it himself that it was a playlist for _him_.

It was a playlist for _everything_ , not just for fucking, no matter what Alfred said, because Alfred wanted _everything_ from him. And shit, Alfred thought he had it, and maybe he _did_ have it. Because Edward _is_ in love with Alfred, but right now Alfred doesn’t know that.

Alfred thought they were dating, he thought _Edward_ thought they were dating, and now… Edward looks up at Alfred. He looks crushed.

“I-“ Edward tries to speak, but his voice comes out all hoarse. Edward clears his throat and tries again. “How long did you think we’d been dating for?” 

He wants to reassure Alfred, tell him he loves him, that he _wants_ to date him, that this is all some weird miscommunication, and things can all go on pretty much as they were, except with a lot less heartbreak, and they can laugh about this, but he’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Alfred, the same Alfred he’s in love with, thought they’d been dating for _months_.

“I mean, since I _told_ you.” Alfred’s voice is all wrong, hollow and lacking in its usual bravado.

Edward makes a strangled, choked-off noise. “When?”

Alfred lifts his eyes up to the ceiling like he’s trying to hold in tears, before looking back at Edward with an expression of pure heartbreak. “You really have no idea, do you?” 

Edward shakes his head.

“The day you asked if there was a boy, I just… I mean I figured you’d twigged it then that I was talking about you." 

_A stupid, dumbass, really fucking **pretty** guy._

Alfred’s words echo back through his head, and now Edward really wants to slap himself, because, in hindsight, it all seemed so obvious. How contented Alfred had seemed when they curled up in bed together afterwards, how weird he’d been every time Edward brought up his “crush”, how romantic things had been getting between them lately… 

“I’m a huge dumbass.” Edward says, running a hand up through his hair.

Alfred shakes his head, a choked laugh clawing its way out of his throat. “Yeah, well, no gold medals to me either. Guess I could’ve been clearer. Picked up on the signs or something.”

Edward swallows thickly, wringing his hands. “Can you ever forgive me?” 

“Huh?” Alfred stares at him blankly for a second, before nodding, quickly wiping away a tear that makes a break for it down his cheek. “Yeah, ‘course. Things can just, uh, go back to the way they were… before all this, you know?”

“What?” Edward jumps up to his feet. “No, no, no, that’s not what I want.” He crosses the room quickly, hovering close to Alfred, not wanting to reach out and touch him unprompted when he’s like this.

“Well what _do_ you want? Because clearly I’m no good at figuring it out.” Alfred avoids Edward’s eye, and Edward wishes he would just _look_ at him, and then maybe he’d see that Edward’s so in love with him he doesn’t know what to do with himself half the time.

“I _want_ to date you. And I’m a fool for not realising sooner that we were already dating, but I didn’t want to let myself believe it might be true, because…” Edward sucks in a deep breath, and lets it out. “Because I didn’t think I deserved you.”

Alfred’s mouth drops open, and closes again, his lower lip trembling slightly. “What?” 

“I love you, Alfred, and I’ve wanted to date you pretty much as long as I’ve known you, but I just figured that that was never on the cards for us, because… I mean, you’re _you_ , and I…” Edward trails off, reaching out tentatively to take one of Alfred’s hands and squeeze it gently. “I never even wanted to fuck that guy. I mean I don’t even remember his name anymore, and I didn’t even realise he was flirting with me until he tried to give me his number and…” 

Alfred’s eyes flutter closed, and his body seems to sag in Edward’s direction, his free hand coming up to wrap around the back of Edward’s neck, tugging him downwards until their foreheads knock together. “God, my boyfriend is the dumbest man alive,” he murmurs.

“Does this mean I can still be your boyfriend? For real this time?” Edward feels like his entire world has shrunk down to this one moment right here, with the soft, floating notes of **Lovers** drifting over them. He can barely breathe, and he doesn’t dare open his eyes, because this moment is already so overwhelming and he thinks if he does then he might start crying on the spot.

“Where else am I gonna find a boy as dumb and pretty as you?” Alfred’s fingers tangle in the short hairs at the back of Edward’s neck, pulling him closer and closer as his breath washes over Edward’s lips.

Edward huffs out a breathless laugh as he reminds himself how to breathe again, before ducking forwards to press his lips against Alfred’s, and _okay_ , maybe there’s a tear or two finding its way down his cheek, but nobody else needs to know that. 

“I love you too,” Alfred murmurs against Edward’s lips, opening his eyes and looking up at Edward through thick lashes.

Edward feels his lips tilt up into a grin. He’s about to lean in to kiss Alfred again when a though crosses his mind, stopping him in tracks.

“Wait, who else thought we were dating?” Edward leans back a little to look at Alfred straight, his mind flickering back over all the weird looks he’d received, and the strange conversation he’d had with Florence.

“Uh, pretty much everyone except you.” Alfred chuckles, squeezing Edward’s hand.

Edward groans and drops his head forward into Alfred’s shoulder. “I’m an idiot.” 

“Yeah,” Alfred says, hand stroking along Edward’s cheek. “But you’re _my_ idiot.”

Edward grins, leaning forward to bump their noses together. It’s so ridiculously cheesy but he can’t help himself, his whole heart is swelling up with love for Alfred, and he couldn’t stop smiling even if he wanted to.

 

* * *

 

“Alfred, you are such a sap!”

“Hmm?”

“ **Can’t Help Falling In Love With You**?” 

“No use hiding the truth.”

“Ugh, what are you _doing_ to me?”

“Too cheesy?”

“Nah. It’s perfect. Suits us.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "but emily," i hear you say, "we already read this fic."
> 
> ah yes, dear reader, but, you see, i had unfinished business with alfred's pov so i rewrote the whole thing. that's not to say that this is a direct repeat - there are, in fact, a few new scenes that didn't feature last time, and there is the all-important acknowledgement of the fact that alfred was also supremely dumb not to realise sooner that edward had no idea they were dating.
> 
> anyway, if you can't be bothered to read this that's also fine (but i hope you do)
> 
> enjoy!

Alfred doesn’t really know why he’s making a sex playlist. It’s not like he needs one or anything. Like, he and Edward have great sex without any musical accompaniment, or by just hitting shuffle on some generic Spotify playlist, and they’ve never needed a personalised playlist before now but…

He sort of wishes they had one. 

Because, well, they’ve been doing this thing where they have sex and cuddle and share a bed and kiss and flirt and pretend it doesn’t mean anything for almost a year now, and neither of them are even trying to _pretend_ that they’re just doing this while they look for someone else. Alfred can’t even remember the last time either of them went out on anything resembling a date with anyone else. And it’s not like he can pretend he hasn’t caught feelings for Edward, because who wouldn’t.

So he’s making them a sex playlist, because, even if this thing never goes any further than this, he thinks they’ve earned the right to personalised playlist after a year.

And if the playlist sounds a little romantic too then it’s just sheer coincidence.

It’s sorta hard to hide from Edward, given that they technically share a Spotify account – even though Alfred pays for the whole thing – but he also locks Edward out by changing the password more for various offences more often than not.

He locked Edward out last week because he “accidentally” used up all the hot water in the morning before they had to get to work, and he still hasn’t told him what he changed the password to. Edward will figure it out soon enough, but in the meant time Alfred sets about crafting the perfect ~~romantic~~  sexy playlist to set the mood. 

Which turns out to be harder than he expected, all things considered. In fact, he labours over it for at least a week, trying to find songs that not only remind him of Edward, but that could feasibly set the mood when they’re having sex, without being too aggressively overt. 

Or maybe he wants to be overt.

Maybe this is the easiest way to communicate his feelings to Edward without having to man up and actually have a conversation about it. Edward can, of course, be painfully oblivious sometimes, but surely if Alfred included a song titled **i love you** he might catch on?

And then maybe Edward would address the feelings which are obviously sitting between them so he doesn’t have to. 

Alfred shakes his head, turning his attention back to the Spotify playlist that’s still open on his laptop.

This is just a sex playlist. Nothing more, nothing less.

(he adds **i love you** anyway)

 

* * *

 

 

“What the hell is this? Tell me we’re not fucking to a song from _Top Gun_.”

Okay, so it’s not quite what Alfred expects when he decides to trial the playlist. In fact, he hadn’t really expected a reaction at all. He sort of just figured he would put it on and Edward would nod along and maybe they would fuck to the rhythm or something.

“It’s a cover,” Alfred says. He actually has to hold back a slight shudder when he thinks of the original and the sex scene it accompanies. That’s enough to make anyone’s boner wilt.

He puts his phone down and looks back over at Edward, who is looking ridiculously gorgeous, splayed out underneath him on the bed, all loose limbs and messy hair and a grey Henley Alfred wants to just rip right off.  He settles for burying his face in Edward’s neck instead to hide his slight embarrassment, and presses small kisses to the skin there.

“I made a playlist,” he murmurs into Edward’s neck, and it feels weird saying it out loud.

He’s ready for Edward’s teasing before he even speaks.

“Babe, you made me a mixtape.” Edward strokes his hands down Alfred’s sides, and Alfred can practically hear the grin on his face, but he leans back to see it anyway, pulling at the hem of Edward’s shirt to give him an excuse.

“It’s a _playlist_.” It takes a fair bit of effort for Alfred to focus his attention enough to speak instead of just staring silently at Edward’s chest as he tosses his shirt onto the floor, but he feels the need to clarify. A mixtape sounds just a little _too_ romantic, and maybe he’s made one or ten mixtape-style playlists for Edward, all hidden under careful titles, but _this_ isn’t one of them. “For _sex_.” He’s not sure who he’s trying to remind. Himself? He’s starting to think maybe he needs the reminder.

Edward rolls his eyes up at him, so Alfred sticks his tongue out in retaliation, because they’re both mature adults. He wonders what Edward thinks about it. The way his lips are twitching up in amusement seems to suggest he thinks it’s funny, which is just great.

“Still, you made it for _me_.” Edward’s smile is possible too gorgeous for this earth, and when he’s teasing Alfred like this, _flirting_ with him as though they’re a couple and not just two friends who sleep together most nights is really just unfair. 

“I made it for _fucking_.” Alfred has to look away again, rolling their hips together and burying his face back into Edward’s neck, because he’s afraid if he looks down Edward will read every single emotion on his face and realise that Alfred may or may not have caught feelings.

And besides, it’s not exactly a _lie_. He _did_ make this playlist for fucking, but he didn’t really have to put it as bluntly as that. It’s just that Edward’s very good at getting into his head, and right now that seems like a very dangerous idea.

“And who else are you sleeping with?” Edward is poking at a nerve, and Alfred isn’t sure if he knows it or not. Because yeah, Alfred had suggested they kept things monogamous so they could stop haemorrhaging money on condoms, and maybe a little bit because he knew he’d get jealous if he found out Edward was seeing someone else too. But mostly the condom thing, because it would be stupid to get so attached to someone who’s only fucking you until he finds someone he actually wants a relationship with.

Alfred feels the bite of Edward’s nails into his back, effectively bringing him back into the moment, and hisses slightly, relishing a little in the thought that it’ll leave a small mark he can look at later when he’s no longer in bed with Edward. He can pretend, then, that this isn’t all that casual, that maybe his boyfriend left those marks on him…

He realises he hasn’t actually replied yet, but he’s really going to town on Edward’s neck, so he thinks he can be excused, biting a little harder than usual like a small warning to Edward to stop pulling on this particular thread.

Apparently, Edward doesn’t get the message, because he pipes up again after a few moments of silence.

“I mean, you basically named it after me."

Alfred has to resist the urge to groan as he sits upright, feeling Edward’s hands working over his belt. He knew it was a mistake to name it ‘pretty boy’ – he’s usually a lot more careful with what he calls his Edward playlists – but it had felt right, and he’d been hoping to get away with it.

“Did not,” he huffs, refusing to meet Edward’s eye and distracting himself with taking off his trousers, and then moving on to Edward’s. Because now Edward’s really hitting a little too close to the truth, so Alfred’s going on the defensive because if Edward finds out about his feelings then all this might come to an end.

He’s also sort of glad **Take My Breath Away** has stopped playing because he couldn’t quite get rid of that image from the film while it was playing, all because Edward had to mention, and now he’s gonna have to take it off the playlist.

“Does this mean there’s another pretty boy in your life?”

Alfred feels Edward’s pout before he sees it, but it’s just as powerful anyway, and Alfred _really_ needs to do something that doesn’t involve just staring at Edward and does involve recovering his pride, one way or another, and if he has to flirt along with Edward then he’ll just have to fucking do it. 

“Why? Are you jealous, _pretty boy_?” He murmurs, straight into Edward’s ear as he rolls his hips down into Edward’s, hoping Edward can’t see the cracks in his façade, or sense them somehow. He feels Edward full-body shiver beneath him as Alfred bites gently at Edward’s ear lobe, smiling slightly at the small victory and trying not to devote too much of his brain power to unpacking what that might mean.

“I knew you made it for me,” Edward says, and the more he pushes, the closer he gets to the truth, and the tenser Alfred gets just thinking about what might happen if Edward put two and two together. He needs some kind of a distraction from this godforsaken fucking playlist, and he needs it now.

“Quit being a little shit,” Alfred says into Edward’s neck, wriggling his fingers into Edward’s sides, remembering how ticklish he is there, and feeling him squirm against him.  “Unless,” Alfred says, propping himself up and untangling his legs from Edward’s, “you’ve decided you don’t want to get laid after all…” he trails off and moves as if to leave, wondering if maybe it really would be best to just give up on having sex at all this evening, since Edward seems so keen on derailing everything to talk about this stupid playlist. 

Before he can go anywhere, however, Edward’s arms are clamping around his waist and pulling him back down so he falls heavily against Edward’s chest. He hears Edward gasp as the weight of Alfred’s body on his forces all the air out of his lungs, and Alfred can’t help but giggle at the slightly winded look on Edward’s face, and then they’re both laughing with their bodies pressed together, and Alfred has one leg between Edward’s with the other knee up by Edward’s hip, and their chests are shaking against each other, and without even really thinking about what he’s doing Alfred reaches down to take Edward’s hand, twining their fingers together.

It’s too late to take it back, Alfred realises, as their laughter peters out into silence and their eyes lock, and all Alfred wants to do is lean in and kiss him slow and sweet without a promise of sex, and just curl up into Edward’s chest and count the freckles on his face until they fall asleep and it’s too much and it’s not enough. And he swears he can see that expression on Edward’s face too, but he doesn’t dare to hope. 

And then Edward interrupts. 

“What’s this song, then?” he asks, rocking their hips together like he’s trying to re-establish the mood from before as he leans up to mouth gently at Alfred’s jaw. Alfred tries not to get annoyed that Edward is still on this _fucking_ playlist.

“Y’know, it’s right there, you could look for yourself.” Alfred really doesn’t want to gratify Edward’s insistent prying with an answer, even though he knows he started this whole thing by making a playlist in the first place, but he can’t help but lean into Edward’s touch. And maybe he’s also reluctant to tell Edward because if Edward catches wind of what this song is about he might catch on to some other things too.

Unfortunately, Edward knows just how to work him, leaning back and pouting up at him, and Alfred’s weak for those big brown eyes, so he caves pretty much immediately. “ **Another Lover**. Leland.” Alfred can’t help the small smile that crosses his face as he runs his thumb over Edward’s lip almost instinctively, feeling such an outpouring of affection for him that he has to shake himself to get back under control.

“What’s it about?” Edward asks, even as Alfred attempts to distract them by rocking their hips together, and Alfred can’t help the slight wave of panic that rushes through him at the thought of having to explain to Edward that this particular song that he chose to include in their sex playlist hits just a little too close to home. He really hopes it doesn’t show on his face.

“Maybe if you weren’t talking over it, you’d know,” he quips, before ducking his head down to kiss Edward so he can’t ask any more questions. He wonders why he didn’t think of that sooner, instead of bickering with him the whole time.

This feels easier, too, ironically enough, than the intense moments that had preceded this. It’s easier to kiss Edward, to pretend this is just sex, to pretend they can ever just be friends, than it is to sit in this bed and acknowledge, even to himself, that Edward is so much more to him than that.

 

* * *

 

Look, so it’s still just a sex playlist, even if Alfred is playing it while he cleans the bathroom and Edward polishes every surface in their apartment. Most of these songs would be in his everyday playlist anyway, so it’s really not that weird that he’s dancing along to **Feels** as he scrubs the bathroom sink.

It just so happens that sex songs are also pretty good cleaning songs, and that’s perfectly normal. And anyway, he’s obviously trying to seduce Edward through music so he can get laid once they finish cleaning. Obviously.

That’s what he tells Edward when he asks, anyway.

The truth of it is, Alfred quite likes that they have a playlist now. He likes the togetherness it implies. And maybe he’s kidding himself, and maybe it’s a little unhealthy to walk around pretending in his head that he and Edward are a couple, but it feels nice to be able to forget for a little bit. 

Like, when Edward comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, and leans in to press a kiss into his neck and whisper in his ear. It’s nice to pretend that it’s not purely sexual. 

“You look way too sexy cleaning that sink,” Edward murmurs, and Alfred has to struggle to keep his expression composed in the mirror in front of him when all he wants is to let his eyes close and lean back into Edward’s chest. But that’s not really how they play things.

“You’ve been watching too much porn,” Alfred quips, even as he settles his hands on Edward’s arms around his waist. “Besides, I’m not done, and I really want to get this bathroom clean…” He trails off a little as Edward starts to trail kisses down his neck. 

“So clean it later,” Edward replies, words muffled in Alfred’s neck. 

Alfred sighs and turns a little awkwardly in Edward’s arms until they’re facing each other, still braced back against the sink, and okay maybe this wasn’t the smartest decision if he was planning to hold his ground, but he puts on a stern expression. “Edw-“ 

Alfred doesn’t even get to finish Edward’s name before he’s leaning in and crushing their lips together, and Alfred really wanted to clean properly because his parents are coming to visit tomorrow and he sort of wants his flat to look spotless so his mum can’t fret over whether or not he’s looking after himself properly, but Edward’s lips feel so soft against his but he can’t help but lean into them

He’ll clean it later, he thinks, as Edward lifts him up so his legs are wrapping around Edward’s waist, sinking into the kiss.

 

* * *

 

“Alfred, darling!” His mum runs up to him and pulls him into a tight hug before he can even say anything. “How are you?”

“I’m good, mum, how are you?” Alfred asks as he moves backwards a little. Charlotte Paget gives bone-crushing hugs, and, while he loves her, he’s feeling the after-effects of a slightly rougher night in bed with Edward. 

“You’ve not been eating properly.” Charlotte pinches his cheek, and then prods at his side. “You’re losing weight.”

“I’ve been eating fine, mum, I’ve just discovered this thing called exercise and I’ve been dropping some of the baby fat, finally.” Alfred rolls his eyes. 

Charlotte doesn’t look convinced, and mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like “you never had any baby fat, you were just adorable,” but she lets go of him and moves out of the way so that Alfred’s dad can give him a hug.

“George finally moved out, so her maternal instincts are going crazy,” Henry mutters in his ear. 

“I heard that,” Charlotte snaps, but there’s a smile on her face as she gently slaps Henry’s arm.

Henry pulls back with a chuckle, and kisses her on the cheek quickly, before gesturing to Alfred to lead the way up to his flat.

They’ve barely made it into the kitchen and sat down with a cup of tea before his mum is prying about his love life, which Alfred really ought to have expected, only things are a lot more complicated than they were last year and he’s not quite sure how to explain it to his mother of all people. At least Edward is at work, so he won’t have to deal with her grilling the two of them simultaneously. 

“Have any boys, caught your eye?” Charlotte teases as she wraps her hands around her mug, watching Alfred intently. She’s always been very involved in her children’s love lives – perhaps it comes from her having had such an interesting one.

Alfred takes a large gulp of tea to buy him time while he figures out how to articulate his current situation, and decides as he swallows not to articulate it at all. “No, not particularly.”

Charlotte exchanges a look with Henry, before turning back to Alfred with an expression that means she’s about to start digging deeper. “Does this have anything to do with Edward?” 

Alfred chews on his lip and takes another sip of tea, averting his eyes. He really doesn’t want to have to say it out loud if he can avoid it.

Charlotte nods slowly, like she’s trying to riddle out this whole situation in her head. “You still have feelings for him.”

It’s not like he’s scared to admit it or anything, it’s just that it’s still sort of difficult to vocalise, and it sounds sort of pathetic to admit that he’s still crushing on the same guy he’s been crushing on since they met at uni. So, instead, he just rolls his lip between his teeth and shrugs. 

His mum bites back a laugh at his response. “I’ll take that as a yes?” 

Alfred clears his throat, and tightens his grip on his mug, attempting to draw comfort from its warmth. “It’s, uh, it’s a little more complicated than that now.”

Charlotte twitches her eyebrows up in surprise at the possibility of a development in Alfred’s love life. “He’s seeing someone?” she asks. “Because, you know, that happened to Adelaide last year. She was in love with this girl who, frankly, she was too good for, and then this girl started seeing someone else and-“

Henry cuts her off with a polite cough. “Darling,” he says, nodding in Alfred’s direction rather pointedly, smiling at Alfred like he’s doing him a favour by putting the spotlight back on him.

Alfred has to bite back his slight annoyance, because he’d much rather listen to stories about his siblings’ chaotic love lives than rehash his own. But, unfortunately, his mother is now watching him expectantly, waiting for an answer. “He, uh, he’s not seeing anyone else, no.” 

“ _Any_ one else?” Charlotte questions, and Alfred mentally berates himself for not being more careful with his wording. “Is he seeing _you_ , then?”

“Not quite.” Alfred huffs out a sigh. “We’ve, uh, we’ve been fooling around, lately.” He says, in response to his parents’ blank expressions, cringing a little as he speaks. “In a, uh, a strictly platonic way." 

“I see,” Charlotte says, narrowing her eyes slightly and tilting her head to the side. “And is there any chance that this… _platonic fooling around_ could be more than that?”

Alfred purses his lips and looks down at his mug, fidgeting with his fingers. “I don’t think he’s interested in me that way.” 

“Sweetheart, have you tried talking to him about it?” Charlotte’s expression is pure sympathy and Alfred doesn’t really want to look at it because he’ll probably end up crying if he does, so he focuses on the swirling steam rising from his mug instead. 

“This, uh, arrangement,” Henry coughs awkwardly before continuing, “doesn’t sound healthy if you’re pining over him. I think you need to work out where the two of you stand, properly this time, and then… reassess.”

Alfred swallows and nods without quite making eye-contact. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

Charlotte purses her lips in a tight smile, reaching a hand out to take Alfred’s. “Talk to him. You never know.”

Alfred nods quickly and tries to swallow the lump in his throat before he starts crying at the table in front of his parents. Then they’d never leave, of that he’s quite certain. 

“So,” he clears, his throat, looking up at his mum with a slightly-painted on smile, “tell me more about Adelaide’s disastrous love life.”

 

* * *

“Are you using this playlist to break up with me or something?” Edward’s words cut through the comfortable silence, broken only by the soft music coming from Alfred’s speaker, like a knife, and immediately set Alfred on edge.

His mind starts whirring at a million miles per second trying to decipher what Edward just said. Why is he asking about a break-up? What is there to break up? They’re not even dating? Does Edward _want_ to break up? Is that why he’s asking? Even worse, has he figured out that this stupid playlist might maybe, just possibly, be about more than just sex?

Of course, Alfred doesn’t say any of that.

He hums, trying to give off the vibe that he’s not really paying attention as he stares down at his pasta sauce, in the hopes that Edward might explain what the _hell_ he means by that. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this playlist, they’re all love songs, right?”

Shit. Busted. 

“I mean, this one is literally called **i love you** -“ God, Alfred knew he shouldn’t have added that stupid fucking song, did he really think Edward was stupid? “-and I’m assuming you’re thinking about someone when you play it. So… Who’s the lucky guy?”

If Edward can sense the anxiety that has overcome Alfred’s entire body, he’s not showing it, but there’s a weird tension sitting between them, like Edward’s trying too hard to joke with Alfred about this. Like he’s a lot more invested than he’s letting on.

Alfred doesn’t dare look over at Edward, who’s busy running numbers for their budget barely a few meters away, keeping his eyes locked on the sauce, and trying desperately to relax his body, because the last thing he needs is Edward catching on. 

“I thought you thought this playlist was about you, huh, pretty boy?”  He teases, but it feels so half-hearted, and he’s amazed Edward doesn’t call his bluff right then and there, because it might well be the weakest attempt at a deterrent ever. And hinting directly at what he’s trying to hide? He may as well just wave a banner over his head that reads ‘I’m in love with you, you fool’. 

“Come on, I mean this is clearly more than just a sex playlist.” Alfred watches Edward risk a glance over at him from the corner of his eye, like he’s also dying to get a read on what the hell the vibe of this conversation is supposed to be.

Alfred wonders if maybe Edward will drop the conversation if he just stays quiet, if maybe there’s some other way to get out of this stupid fucking conversation that he’s really rather not be having. And really, isn’t it all his fault for filling that godforsaken playlist with love songs? Edward is oblivious at the best of times, but he’s not stupid, and Alfred really ought to have expected him to figure it out soon enough. 

Well, Alfred is all for just letting this conversation die quietly, but Edward, it seems, isn’t quite on the same page.

“You know, you can tell me if there’s a guy.” His voice is oddly quiet, almost insecure, and it’s that that really tips Alfred over the edge.

He thinks about what his mum said, about owning up to his feelings, about the possibility that Edward might, maybe, if he’s really lucky, like him back. He thinks about the weird looks Edward gives him sometimes when things end up on the wrong side of intimate, and how tense he’s been for this entire conversation and decides that there’s a good enough chance that Edward won’t completely reject him If he comes clean.

So, Alfred takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, before turning and walking over to Edward, getting right up in his space and stepping between his legs, which open instinctively for him. 

 “Yeah, there’s a guy,” Alfred says, looking directly in Edward’s eyes and reaching out to toy with Edward’s tie, loosening it a little. “A stupid, dumbass, really fucking _pretty_ guy.”

He slips the tie over Edward’s head and starts to fiddle with his top button, cocking an eyebrow at Edward, who looks a lot like his brain has short-circuited altogether. Alfred actually has to bite back a laugh at his expression, but he also feels a rush of euphoria at the fact that it doesn’t look like he’s upset, or weirded out. It’s sort of hard to read, actually, but it doesn’t look like rejection. 

 “Lucky him,” Edward murmurs, his eyes flickering down to Edward’s lips, and that’s all the confirmation Alfred needs to lean in and kiss him senseless

Edward fucks him slow and sweet, almost gentle, like he’s afraid Alfred might break beneath him, and the atmosphere around them feels so charged and all Alfred wants to do is _soak it up_ because they’ve finally crossed that line, _finally_ , and he doesn’t have to hold it in anymore

So he does. He lies there, and he soaks in the feeling of finally not giving a shit whether or not Edward finds out, and the feeling of knowing that Edward hasn’t turned tail and run, and that maybe that means he likes him back, and maybe they might actually be dating now. 

That maybe they’re working towards something more, here and now. 

Edward is dozing off, even though there’s dinner still sitting on the hob going cold, but Alfred can’t bring himself to wake him, so he settles for trailing his fingers across Edward’s chest and pressing small, open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone, up his neck, across his jawline, up to Edward’s lips.

“I love you,” he whispers quietly. “And you don’t have to say it back, but maybe we can make a go of things, see where we end up?”

Edward’s eyes are closed, his breathing slow, but he hums softly, and blinks his eyes open sleepily when Alfred presses his lips against his, smiling dopily up at him.

And it’s enough.

 

* * *

 

Alfred watches Edward dance around the kitchen to **Dance to This** with a ridiculous grin on his face. Edward is supposed to be cleaning out the kitchen cupboards while Alfred tidies up the bookshelves, but instead the whole flat seems to have turned into an impromptu dance party for one. 

Okay so maybe it’s not just a sex playlist, and maybe Alfred thinks of it more as just _their_ playlist these days, but still. 

Edward doesn’t dance that often, because he thinks he looks ridiculous, which, in all fairness, he sort of does. In fact, Alfred thinks this might be one of the first times Alfred’s seen him dance – _properly_ dance – when he’s entirely sober. It feels weirdly intimate, even though he’s literally just watching his best friend – his boyfriend? – dance in their kitchen, because he knows not many people get to see this side of him. 

Alfred wants to film him, or capture this moment somehow, but he also doesn’t want to violate it like that. He wants to stay right here, in this moment free from shame or fear, in this casual vulnerability that exists between them. 

Yeah, so it’s definitely more than a sex playlist.

 

* * *

 

“Since when do you listen to Hozier?”

Alfred glances over his shoulder to see Mina frowning over at him from where she’s sat at the table with Edward, who’s trying really hard to make conversation with her, even though she’s on her second glass of wine, and is something of a lightweight. 

“Since his horny forest music started fitting my aesthetic.” He grins over at her and turns up the song, before turning back to the risotto he’s cooking to try and satisfy the intense conditions of Mina’s current diet fad. 

He swings his hips just a little to the music, as if to punctuate his point, and maybe to try and catch Edward’s attention, which proves almost immediately effective.

“Which one is this one?”

Alfred grins at Edward’s question, because that means he remembers it from when he bent Alfred over the very same table he’s currently sat at and fucked him until he couldn’t walk straight. But, from the sounds of things, he hasn’t quite put two and two together yet, which is really a shame, because that particular fuck is in Alfred’s hall of fame at the moment.

“ **Movement** ,” Alfred replies with a wink, which earns a blush from Edward and a curious look from Mina. He sort of hopes Mina decides not to pry on this one, because he’s really not _that_ open about his sex life. Even if she does know most of it already. He’s fairly sure it might ruin a few of her favourite songs if she knew that he fucked his boyfriend – he’s still not sure if that’s what they are right now – to them. 

He hears Mina swipe his phone off the counter but doesn’t bother commenting – he’ll let her think she’s slick if it makes her feel good about herself. And besides, once she decides she wants answers, there’s very little anyone can do to deter her.

“‘pretty boy’?” she reads out.  “This is definitely not one of your public playlists, Jesus, Alfred.” 

Edward looks almost offended that Mina is being allowed to scroll uninhibited through Alfred’s playlist, which Alfred supposes is fair given that he’d locked Edward out of their account for his _atrocious_ music choices. Mr. Brightside is a good song, but no song can be played on repeat for an entire day without ruining it forever. Besides, that expression on Edward’s face is far too adorable not to be witnessed on a regular basis.

“What the hell _is_ this playlist, and why didn’t I know about it?”

Alfred ignores her question, rolling his lip between his teeth, because, again, he doesn’t really want to divulge the intimate details of his sex life, or deal with the follow-up questions Mina might ask. He does grumble quietly when Mina changes the song, although he quiets down when he hears the opening chords of **Best Part**. At least she has taste.

Mina huffs when he makes no attempt at a reply. “Okay, fine, you don’t wanna tell me?” 

Alfred glances over his shoulder and sees her turn her attention on Edward who shrugs at her.

“It’s for some boy he has a crush on,” Edward says, getting up and wandering into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, bumping shoulders with Alfred just slightly as he walks past. 

So _that’s_ how he wants to play it. Alfred wants to bite back with some kind of remark, or maybe laugh it off like ‘haha okay yeah, I’ve got a crush on you, and we all know it’, but he’s actually quite enjoying Mina’s confusion.

“Huh?” Mina stares blankly at the two of them, like she’s trying to work out if Alfred has a crush on someone other than Edward that he hasn’t told her about, and why _Edward_ , his supposed boyfriend, isn’t fazed by that.  

“Can we forget about my stupid playlist?” he says, instead of offering any sort of clarity on the situation.

“No, seriously, what?” Mina asks again, and Alfred huffs and turns back to his risotto, because he doesn’t particularly enjoy being teased.

“He made it because he’s like in love with this dumb pretty boy or something.” Edward shrugs and offers Alfred another grin, bumping their shoulders together again like it’s the best joke he’s ever made. 

Alfred would quite like to strangle him right about now.

“Alfred.” 

“Yes, dear?” Alfred gives Mina a weary smile. 

“Care to explain?”

“Not particularly.” 

“Okay but-“

“Can we talk about literally anything else?” Alfred attempts to interrupt Mina before she can make things any more awkward than they already are. She ignores him. 

“- _are_ you in _love_ with some dumb pretty boy?”

Alfred doesn’t really know what to say, because it was one thing to admit it in the comfort of his own bedroom when Edward was too asleep to really remember it, but to admit it right here in the kitchen with Mina staring him down and Edward giving him this weird look like he’s dying to know, as if he doesn’t already.

“God, what are you guys even talking about?” he says, and it’s lame, and of course Mina sees right through his attempt at ending this conversation. Edward has taken on a slightly queasy look like he also wishes he didn’t bring this up, which is just confusing because isn’t this all just one big joke?

“We’re talking about how you’re in love with some dumb pretty boy.” Mina offers him this shit-eating grin, and Alfred swears he’s this close to just tossing her out of the door, because she _know s_ that this is a somewhat precarious situation.

“Don’t call Edward dumb, he’s giving you free advice, and _good_ free advice too.” Alfred huffs, avoiding the question again. Apparently, this time, his answer is almost satisfactory, though, as Mina’s grin widens.

“What, so Edward is the only pretty boy you know?” She teases, and _god_ if looks could kill she’d be on the floor right now.

“You honestly think I’ve got time in my life for two?” 

Edward seems to have relaxed entirely. Apparently whatever stick was up his ass has been pulled out, as he leans over and croons into Alfred’s ear. “I’ll try not to let it go to my head.”

He gives Alfred a sloppy kiss on the cheek and slaps his ass before wandering back over to the table as if that wasn’t the most affection they’ve ever showed towards each other in front of other people. Alfred has to shake his head to stop himself from dwelling too much on that.

“For the record,” he says, dishing up food and preparing to get a little bit of revenge, no matter how petty, “it’s on private because my _mum_ follows my Spotify, and she does _not_ need to see my sex playlist.” 

Alfred laughs at the sound of his phone clattering onto the table, and glances over to see Mina glaring at him like she’s just been shot while Edward tries to bite back a laugh of his own.

“Why the _fuck_ are we listening to your _sex playlist_ over _dinner_?” she shrieks.

“Maybe I’m just hoping to get lucky.” Alfred gives Edward the filthiest look he can muster up. After Edward’s teasing, he’s not too keen on drawing out wine night with Mina. In fact, he’s already got plans for when he can get Edward alone.

And then, just as quickly as the moment began, he snaps out of it, picking up the bowls of food and taking them over to the table, ignoring the way Mina is pretending to gag at the two of them.

 

* * *

 

Alfred has worn Edward’s jumpers before, a few times actually. He likes the way they feel, the way they swallow him up. The sleeves are long enough for him to tuck his hands into them like little mittens, and they’re way too long on him. But really, the best part of wearing Edward’s jumpers is that they _smell_ like him.

Well, not so much like Edward as Edward’s cologne and the laundry detergent they both use, and maybe a hint of his shower gel, but it’s a smell Alfred distinctly associates with Edward. It makes him feel happy, safe even, though he’s not sure what from. 

And it had never really bothered Edward before when Alfred borrowed them. In fact, he’d always laughed at Alfred’s feigned ignorance – ‘Oh, this is _yours_? You know, I thought it didn’t look right…’ – like he found it endearing, and Alfred had sort of figured that nothing would have changed since they started properly dating. If anything, surely, it would seem _more_ ordinary now than before.

So, that’s sort of what Alfred’s expecting when he wanders out into the living room in one of Edward’s old sweatshirts – a faded blue one from the rowing team he was part of in uni. It’s one of Alfred’s favourites because it’s the softest one Edward owns.

And, at first, it looks like that’s what he’s going to get, when Edward’s eyes light up a little and his lips lift up into a small smile, like he likes the image of Alfred in his clothes, and it sort of warms his heart. And then Edward’s expression drops, like he’s just been burned or something.

“That’s my jumper,” he says in a dull monotone, like he’s still trying to mentally process, but he doesn’t sound nearly as happy as Alfred had expected. In fact, if anything, he sounds offended.

“Hmmm, is it?” Alfred teases, like he always does, but this time Edward doesn’t take the bait.

“It has my name on it.” 

Alfred glances down as if he doesn’t already know that Edward’s name and rowing position are embroidered beneath the rowing club logo, with his surname emblazoned on the back for good measure. It’s not the first time Alfred’s stolen this jumper.

“So it does,” Alfred muses with a playful smile, still hoping Edward might drop whatever weird mood he’s in and play along. 

“Don’t you have your own clothes to wear?” Edward turns back to his computer and resumes typing whatever it was he was working on before Alfred came in. 

Alfred feels his words like 8 separate punches to the chest. “It never bothered you when I borrowed your jumpers before,” Alfred says, and his voice sounds so small. God, he feels like he’s a little kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar, not an adult having a conversation with his boyfriend about fucking boundaries, and he just doesn’t get where this is coming from all of a sudden, because he thought that them being a couple meant _more_ intimacy, not less.

“It just… don’t you think it’s weird?” Edward says, barely even glancing in Alfred’s direction.

Alfred wraps his arms around his body tightly and swallows. “I didn’t realise it bothered you so much. I’ll change.”

He turns to walk back into the bedroom, feeling like he might be about to burst into tears, and over a _fucking jumper_ too, but before he can take more than five steps, Edward is calling him back.

“Alfred, wait.”

Alfred stops but doesn’t turn around.

“I’m sorry. I’m tense at the moment because I’ve got this big project at work. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Alfred turns to face him, arms still wrapped tightly around his middle like a shield from any more scathing comments, but when he catches sight of Edward’s face, all sincere smile and puppy dog eyes, he drops his arms to his side. He chews on his lip to keep from smiling straight away, even as he walks back over to Edward.

“I actually like that jumper on you,” Edward says, swivelling around a little in his chair and opening his arms just a little.

Alfred makes a show of rolling his eyes before awkwardly crawling to sit on Edward’s lap, shuffling a little until he’s straddling him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Edward confirms as his hands settle on Alfred’s hips, thumbs rubbing small circles into his side. “It just threw me a little. It’s very couple-y, you know?”

Alfred hums, and cocks an eyebrow as if to say ‘is that such a bad thing?’ 

“Of _course_ you can wear my jumpers. Maybe it’ll help you get lucky,” Edward grins at him, leaning into him until their faces are mere centimetres apart. 

“As if I need any help.”

Edward hums, his eyes flickering down towards Alfred’s lips, and then back up to his eyes. “You are horribly distracting, you know that, right?” 

Alfred puts on a pout and blinks at Edward as innocently as he can manage, but barely lasts a second without cracking up

“You are ridiculous,” Edward says, even as his grip tightens on Alfred’s hips. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I can think of a few things.” Alfred grins, before leaning in and pressing their lips together.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, so about this boy-“ 

Alfred cuts Edward off with a groan, rolling away from where he’s lying on top of him to flop down next to Edward on the bed instead. “Jesus, are we still playing this game?” 

Edward has been teasing about this since Alfred first confessed, asking about Alfred’s crush like he thinks it’s some hilarious joke. It was funny for a little while, and Alfred can take a little teasing – he thinks maybe it’s warranted given he crushed on his best friend for _years_ – but now he’s sort of tired of Edward interrupting every sexual encounter with some sort of joke about “the boy” Alfred’s crushing on.

“-no, just hear me out,” Edward says, rolling onto his side so he’s facing Alfred and placing a hand on Alfred’s chest. “Don’t you think **goodnight n go** is giving off the wrong kinda vibes?” Edward cocks an eyebrow at him, tracing idle patterns onto Alfred’s chest with his fingers.

“God, can’t you just suck my dick without overanalysing everything?” Alfred huffs, turning his head to the side to get a proper look at Edward’s face.

“I mean you want to date this guy, don’t you?” Edward waggles his eyebrows suggestively, even though there’s something slightly off behind his eyes that Alfred doesn’t have time to unpack.

“Dude seriously? Are you gonna do this every time?” Alfred asks, because this joke where Edward pretends that Alfred’s crush is some anonymous mystery man when he knows  _full well_ Alfred’s been crushing on him the whole time is really starting to wear Alfred’s patience thin. 

“Only for you, babe.” Edward grins, leaning in to kiss Alfred on the tip of his nose.

Alfred rolls his eyes but kisses Edward back when he leans in, in the hopes that Edward might give him that blowjob he’s owed…

 

* * *

 

Alfred _loves_ when he and Edward take things slow. He loves the way everything feels when they really take their time to work out each other’s bodies, when he’s fucking into Edward slow and steady, rolling their hips is a smooth rhythm, close enough to watch every muscle in Edward’s body stretch and recoil. He loves feeling Edward’s nails dragging down his back, feeling his mouth against his ear as Edward whispers sweet nothings and urging him onwards. He loves locking eyes with Edward and feeling all the intimacy of the moment washing over him.

And Alfred swears, as he looks down at Edward in that moment, that he’s never felt more in love with him, with his stupid messy curls sticking slightly to his forehead, and his lips all pink and slightly swollen from kissing him, and his eyes staring up at Alfred like he’s everything he could ever want.

Alfred’s always thought Edward was no good at hiding his emotions during sex. For the most part, he tends to be pretty guarded about showing his emotions on his face, like he’s afraid of them or something, but whenever they have sex all Alfred seems to be able to see on his face is adoration.

It’s quite the ego boost, actually.

Alfred’s right in the middle of kissing him senseless, trying to pour every last emotion into him through his lips, when Edward speaks.

“I like this one.” He murmurs against Alfred’s lips, eyes flickering over to Alfred’s phone, and Alfred realises he’s talking about the song. “Suits us.”

Alfred hadn’t even noticed what song was playing until Edward mentioned, and while he’s glad that it’s not another jab at his music choices, Edward’s comment doesn’t exactly fill him with joy. This song isn’t exactly a sappy love song, in fact, it’s one of the songs Alfred added right at the beginning when he was feeling particularly sorry for himself about his and Edward’s arrangement. It hardly feels relevant anymore, to him at least.

“Yeah?” he says, propping himself up a little to get a proper look at Edward’s face. It’s weird, Edward almost looks uncomfortable all of a sudden. Sort of confused.

“Yeah.” Edward digs the heels of his feet into Alfred’s back like he’s supposed to just start fucking him again after Edward’s said something so casually devastating like that. “Maybe we should start having secret trysts in hotel rooms, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, maybe,” Alfred mumbles, looking away from Edward as he starts to rock his hips back into Edward’s again, but it feels wrong now. The moment feels off, because, from the sounds of things, Edward is still treating this as some casual fling, and that doesn’t sit well with Alfred.  “Is this your way of telling me I’m your second choice?” he says without really thinking it through, and part of him regrets it but most of him needs to know the answer, because if that’s all he is to Edward then it would be best to know now. At the very least, he hopes it sounds nonchalant. 

“You could never be my second choice.” Edward’s reply throws him for a second because it sounds so sincere, so unfiltered and open that Alfred isn’t quite sure what to do. He smiles in spite of himself though, feeling his heart warm, because, frankly, that’s the closest Edward has got to any kind of reciprocation since Alfred confessed his own feelings, and it might not be an ‘I love you’ but it’s enough.

 

* * *

 

“So… how are things with your gorgeous boyfriend?” Mina passes Alfred what must be his third glass of wine and sits down on the sofa next to him with a grin.

“They’re, uh, they’re alright,” Alfred says, taking a long sip of wine and avoiding her gaze. Unfortunately for him, Mina is an expert at reading his emotions, and there’s no escaping her eagle-eyed observations.

“Alfred, you look a little more put-out than I’d expect. Usually you’re _dying_ to gush about Edward.” Mina sets her glass of wine down and turns to look at him properly, so Alfred knows she’s expecting a good answer. 

He shrugs, pursing his lips before he replies. “He’s been acting weird lately.”

“What do you mean ‘weird’? Maybe I can ask Flo if he’s mentioned anything?” Mina prods at Alfred with her foot with a small smile. 

“You know I’m not sure that’s how it’s supposed to work,” Alfred teases, but it’s half-hearted. “I’m fairly sure if something’s up with my boyfriend I should ask him myself.”

“Okay, so why haven’t you?”

Alfred shrugs again and takes a sip of his wine. “He’s just seemed really distant lately. Like, everything will be fine and then something will happen and he’ll like recoil into himself.”

“Like what?” 

“Like, the other day I was wearing one of his jumpers and he acted like that was really weird all of a sudden, as if I haven’t been stealing his jumpers since before we were even hooking up. Or we were having sex the other day and he said he thought this song about being the Other Woman suited us. Like, what am I supposed to take from that?” 

Mina frowns a little like she’s mulling over all the info Alfred’s just dumped on her, chewing on her lip absent-mindedly. “That is weird.”

Alfred rolls his eyes at her. “Okay, so we’ve established I’m not crazy. What am I supposed to do, though?”

“I mean, you said it yourself, Alfred, you just need to ask.” 

That’s not exactly what he wanted to hear, as much as it does make sense. He was sort of hoping Mina would wave her hands and fix the problem like some kind of fairy godmother or something. But, then, he supposes that’s not really fair.

“I wish I’d never said anything,” Alfred says without really thinking, and he can feel his bottom lip starting to tremble as his eyes fill with tears, and _this_ is why he’s not supposed to drink too much wine, because wine-drunk Alfred is weepy and sad. 

“Oh, Alfred, babe,” Mina sighs, and shuffles over on the sofa to wrap an arm around his shoulder.

“I mean, this whole relationship thing just seems to have made it all so complicated. Maybe Edward doesn’t actually want to date me, maybe he’s just going along with it so he doesn’t have to risk the friendship or something. I should’ve just kept it to myself,” he mumbles, grabbing a tissue from the box on the coffee table and wiping at his eyes furiously. 

“Edward is absolutely smitten with you, and he has been since forever, so I guarantee that’s not the problem.”

“But what if it is?”

“It’s _not_ ,” Mina says firmly, stroking her hand up and down Alfred’s shoulder. “Just promise me you’ll talk to him, okay?” 

Alfred hums and sits upright, wiping his eyes and rolling his shoulders as he musters up a smile.

“Alfred?” Mina raises an eyebrow at him. “You’ll talk to him, won’t you?” She sounds like a stern parent trying to make sure he does his homework, but he supposes that’s warranted. He and Edward have been historically bad at communicating, and Mina knows it. 

“I’ll talk to him.” Alfred really hopes his smile isn’t too forced.

Mina narrows her eyes at him. “Soon.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” Alfred says, rolling his eyes at her. 

“Okay, good,” she says, slumping back against the sofa, glass of wine in hand. “God, I’m so glad I’m married and I never have to go through this again.”

“Lucky for some.” Alfred clinks his glass against hers and takes a long drink

Mina giggles at him and pats his shoulder with her free hand. “You’ll get there. You and Edward are it for each other, I can tell. Or, you would be if you could just _communicate_.” She kicks his ankle gently. “Seriously, would it kill you guys to have a conversation every once in a while?” 

“Hey, you and Florence danced around each other for an entire year before she finally asked you out,” Alfred kicks her back, putting on a faux scowl.

“Psh, whatever.” She waves a hand at him. “You’re supposed to _learn_ from my mistakes, not _repeat them_.”

“Believe me, I’m working on it,” Alfred mumbles into his glass.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Alfred leaves work early so that he’ll be back home before Edward, so he can have a bit of time to gather himself together. He paces the length of their flat at least ten times, and checks his watch more often than he can count as he tries to straighten out in his head how he’s even going to broach the subject with Edward.

In the end, he goes to the fridge and opens up a bottle of wine, pouring out a large glass. He gets a few good gulps in before he hears a door somewhere along the corridor, and a pair of voices. It’s hard to make out exactly what they’re saying, but Alfred recognises Edward’s voice just a little way down the hall.

Figuring Edward must have just made a friend, gotten talking to one of their neighbours, Alfred goes to poke his head out of the door and catches the tail end of what the other man is saying

“-maybe you could give me a call sometime? You know, if and your, uh, roommate ever sort things out.”

Alfred does not care for that shit at _all_. Roommate? What the _hell_ is Edward doing walking around calling Alfred his roommate and flirting with attractive young gentlemen who just so happen to be visiting the flat next to theirs? And from the sounds of things he’s been getting pretty personal with this guy too. 

Alfred coughs pointedly and watches Edward’s head snap in his direction with an expression of vague panic. “Hey, Edward, can you come give me a hand with the laundry? It’s your turn to do the ironing,” he says through gritted teeth, pasting on a sharp smile. He thinks this might just be the last straw. Edward being distant could be explained by any number of things, but flirting with other guys? Yeah, Alfred’s not looking to get screwed over by his best friend.

“Can we, uh, take a raincheck?” Edward turns back to the guy, who’s looking between the two of them like he’s trying to work out what the relationship is between them. Which is just great. 

Alfred watches, stony-faced, as Edward passes over some shopping bags he was carrying, and Alfred _hates_ it because Edward is such a fucking _gentleman_ and it makes it so hard to be annoyed at him.

“Sure, man. Uh, good luck,” the guy replies, patting Edward on the shoulder, and a very large part of Alfred wants to fly down the hallway and rip his hand off, but instead he just turns and storms back into their flat, not bothering to hold the door for Edward.

In fact, he half-considers putting the chain on the door and not letting Edward back in, but the thought of Edward wandering down the hallway back to that guy’s door makes him rethink that choice.

“What. The fuck. Was _that_ ,” he says without turning around when he hears Edward come in behind him.

“What, Alex?”

_God_ , even his _name_ has Alfred seething.

“Did you get a number to go with that name?” His voice comes out more aggressive than he’d intended, but he can’t bring himself to correct it, because dammit he’s _pissed_ , and Edward seems to have no idea he’s even done anything.

God, he needs a cigarette.

He can feel Edward’s eyes on his back as he lights one up, like he’s just dying to tell Alfred to put it out, because Alfred promised he was quitting and their landlord will get pissed if he smells it, not to mention if it sets off the fire alarm, but right now he doesn’t care.

“I was just giving him a hand with his shopping, Alfred.” Edward sounds like he’s trying to placate a small child, all innocent like Alfred didn’t _see_ him out there with _Alex_.

“ _Please_ ,” Alfred scoffs, whipping around to face Edward. “He was basically _begging_ you to fuck him.” He takes a drag on his cigarette and does his best to look nonchalant. “Are you gonna do it?” He doesn’t really want to know the answer, but he sort of feels like being a dick right now so he asks anyway.

“Jesus, Alfred, what is _up_ with you?” Edward snaps at him, and Alfred feels his words like a slap in the face.

“What’s _up_ with me?” He puts his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table and stalks towards Edward. “What, so I’m not allowed to be pissed that my _boyfriend_ was busy _flirting_ with _someone else_?”

Edward blinks at him. “Boyfriend?”

Alfred realises immediately that he’s messed up, because he and Edward had never really bothered to put a label on it, and now he’s just gone and made huge assumptions, but he sort of thought it went unsaid. 

“What, are you gonna try and get out of this on a technicality just because we haven’t said it yet?” he says, but it feels a little half-hearted after the venom of his previous words.

Edward looks so confused that it might actually be adorable if they weren’t currently fighting, but Alfred can’t help but feel like whatever he’s about to say is going to be absolutely devastating.

“What the hell do you mean?” And there it is. “We’re not… that’s not what this is. You’re only fucking me so you can pretend I’m that dumb pretty boy you’ve been lusting after for _months_.”

Alfred stares at him blankly because _fucking hell_. All these months he’s been thinking that he and Edward were together, that they were working towards something, and Edward had _no idea_. He feels all the weird, awkward moments he’d been ranting to Mina about last night all suddenly start to make sense. His heart sinks in his chest. He’s been fooling himself the entire time.

“And what if I _did_ want to hook up with someone else?” Edward continues, barely even stopping to breathe. “I mean, it would be nice to actually fuck someone who’s into _me_ for a change, who isn’t using me to get over _someone else_. I mean, you don’t even _like_ me like that. D’you ever figure that I’m sick of being your little walking talking sex doll? I mean you can’t get mad that I-“

Alfred interrupts him before he can break his heart any more than he already has. “I _can_ get mad, because we’ve been _dating_ for _months_ , Edward.” He has to turn away because the look of shock on Edward’s face is too much for him when his heart is breaking in his chest. “ _You_ are the dumb pretty boy, I thought you _got that_.”

Edward stumbles back like he’s been punched, and just sort of stands there, and the silence is getting a little oppressive in the wake of Alfred’s big reveal, so he pulls out his phone and hits shuffle on the playlist he made for Edward. He has to bite back a bitter laugh when **Love of My Life** starts playing. Because why the fuck not, right?

Maybe that’s the final straw that sends Edward toppling into full-on meltdown mode, because he sinks into the sofa with his head in his hands and stays like that for quite some time while Alfred just stands there, feeling like a perfect idiot for not having seen the signs. And it’s his own stupid fault for not having been clearer with Edward, for confessing his feelings while Edward was half-asleep and expecting him to take it in.

And now this whole thing is going up in smoke, and probably taking their friendship with it. Alfred supposes he might be able to move in with Mina for a bit while he tries to find a smaller flat that he can afford to live in alone, and he and Edward can just become acquaintances who only see each other when their mutual friends have parties or something, or maybe they’ll just take it in turn to attend and it’ll all be fine.

“I-“ Edward starts, and then clears his throat, interrupting Alfred’s downward spiral before he just bursts into tears on the spot. “How long did you think we’d been dating for?”

Edward looks so earnest, so confused, that Alfred just wants to reach out to him, but it feels so weird now.

“I mean, since I _told_ you,” he says, but he supposes that doesn’t make much sense to Edward, given that he’s been painfully oblivious the entire time.

“When?” The word comes out choked-off and strangled, and it might be funny in another context.

Alfred has to blink back tears, because if Edward knows how heartbroken he is he’ll just start feeling guilty. “You really have no idea, do you?” 

Edward shakes his head silently, with that same earnest expression.

“The day you asked if there was a boy, I just…” Alfred swallows. “I mean I figured you’d twigged it then that I was talking about you.”

Edward rubs a hand over his face and up through his hair. “I’m a huge dumbass.”

_God_ , of _course_ he’s blaming himself. Alfred wraps his arms tightly around himself to resist the urge to reach out for Edward and stroke his hair and tell him he did nothing wrong.

“Yeah, well, no gold medals to me either,” he says, with an awful, forced laugh. “Guess I could’ve been clearer. Picked up on the signs or something.” 

“Can you ever forgive me?” Edward’s eyes are so tender and gentle that Alfred has to look away.

“Huh?” He blinks and wipes away a stray tear and nodding at Edward, doing his best to muster up a smile and failing miserably. “Yeah, ‘course. Things can just, uh, go back to the way they were… before all this, you know?” He swallows and hopes the words don’t come out too forced, because he _can’t_ lose Edward. If they can salvage anything between them then he has to try. 

“What?” Edward jumps to his feet like Alfred’s just insulted him and hurries across the room. “No, no, no, that’s not what I want.” His hands twitch up like he wants to grab him by the shoulders but he drops them quickly, eyes scanning over Alfred like he’s trying to work out whether or not he’d be okay with it. Alfred’s heart just _melts_ , because Edward knows him so well, knows his limits, his worst moods, and respects his boundaries in ways no other guy he’s dated ever has. 

“Well what _do_ you want?” Alfred shrugs, refusing to look Edward in the eye, even as he drops his arms to his side to open up his body language a little. In case Edward _did_ want to hug him or something. “Because clearly I’m no good at figuring it out.” 

“I _want_ to date you,” Edward says, and Alfred feels like his eyes are bulging like some kind of cartoon character. “And I’m a fool for not realising sooner that we were already dating, but I didn’t want to let myself believe it might be true, because… Because I didn’t think I deserved you.”

“What?” Alfred asks, and he feels like he might start crying again, because this all seems too good to be true.

“I love you, Alfred, and I’ve wanted to date you pretty much as long as I’ve known you, but I just figured that that was never on the cards for us, because… I mean, you’re _you_ , and I…” Edward trails off and reaches for Alfred’s hand, squeezing it gently, and Alfred doesn’t even know how to react, and he feels like maybe it’s his turn to collapse into the sofa with his head in his hands but he can’t stop staring at Edward.

“I never even wanted to fuck that guy,” Edward continues. “I mean I don’t even remember his name anymore, and I didn’t even realise he was flirting with me until he tried to give me his number and…”

Go fucking figure. Of course Edward didn’t realise Alex was flirting with him. Alfred feels like all of the tension of the argument has seeped out of his body, and he sags in Edward’s direction, looping his arms around Edward’s neck and pulling him down until their foreheads are pressed together.

“God, my boyfriend is the dumbest man alive,” he murmurs, eyes pressed closed as he soaks in the moment.

“Does this mean I can still be your boyfriend? For real this time?”

Alfred feels Edward’s breath wash over his face, and his playlist seems to have decided to do him a favour, playing something soft and romantic.

“Where else am I gonna find a boy as dumb and pretty as you?” Alfred chuckles quietly, tangling his fingers in Edward’s hair and dragging him down just a little bit further to brush their lips together just slightly.

Edward huffs out a short laugh, before leaning in and pressing their lips together. This whole moment feels like some kind of fantasy Alfred’s dreamed up, and he has to remind himself that the press of Edward’s lips on his is _entirely_ real.

He leans back after a moment, barely even a centimetre, and opens his eyes to look up at Edward. “I love you too,” he says, since Edward was apparently unaware of the time he said it before. A little clarity can’t hurt.

Edward grins at him, and Alfred thinks he could watch him smile like that for the rest of his life. And then his smile drops, and he leans back slightly more with a small frown.

“Wait, who else thought we were dating?” Edward says.

Alfred laughs at his confused expression. “Uh, pretty much everyone except you.”

Oh god, if it ever gets back to Mina that this whole thing has been a miscommunication of epic proportions he’ll never hear the end of it. Still, he thinks he’s learned a valuable lesson in the importance of communication. He’s not keen to repeat that mistake.

Edward groans and buries his head into Alfred’s shoulder. “I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Alfred says, and he hears a muffled protest from Edward before he straightens up to look him in the eye again. “But you’re _my_ idiot.”

God, love has turned him into such a _sap_ , but he can’t help but grin as Edward leans in to bump their noses together.

But he is _definitely_ not telling Mina about _any_ of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okey dokey now i genuinely am done with this 'verse.
> 
> however, please do imagine a mini-scene i didn't have to energy to write in which mina and flo sit in bed together and shake their heads at the staggering amount of stupidity the boys seem to possess - they have one brain cell between the two of them, and from the looks of things it spends most of its time in between instead of either of them actually using it.
> 
> anyway yeah so i've got a couple more projects in the works (including ideas for a great gatsby au im trying to work up the courage to write)
> 
> let me know what you thought of this! 
> 
> thank you for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you thought of this!
> 
> thanks, as always, to Mia for looking over this for me and helping me get this fic together! <3
> 
> thank you so much for reading, drop me a comment if you liked this! <3<3<3


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